


The Many

by Hambone



Category: Transformers, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Beast Mode Sex, F/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of Pregnancy, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2076696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't mind taking care of their needs, because they so often coincide with her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Many

**Author's Note:**

> Request for comradewodka on my Tumblr! The other Preds were chosen a bit at random, so I apologize if there was someone you wanted to see but didn't. Enjoy!

Everyone was going wild and she knew exactly what to do about it. She was more experienced in these areas than many of they were, ready for it, though she could not quite explain how. They were made of old parts, reborn, and some of the old knowledge remained. Instinct too, although that was to be expected, and when her time came she was pleased. Their king would be pleased too, when he found out. Their sect had split off from the main group to populate a small colony north east from the original hive, and communication was infrequent.

Not that it mattered much. She had work to do, and plenty of time to do it. Predacon heat could last lunar cycles.

Ripclaw had awoken and been instantly aware of what she was feeling and why. It was a steady burn, slow and languid through her frame, toes to wingtips, and for a moment she simply reveled in the intensity, stretching long and fine. As per usual she was the first to wake and therefore was allowed the moment of peace, each little line of new coding gently aligning itself in her hard drives. Her tail swayed over the edge of the ledge she kept her perch on, looking down over the rest of her comrades in the rusted out shell of the building they’d commandeered, and she ran a claw over her own chest, trilling softly.

Though he was rarely second to rise, Lazerback was the first to approach her. His beast mode clawed its way up the side of her watch point, snorting loudly as he attempted to categorize the new element to her scent. She raised her helm, flickering her tongue at him.

“You’re up early.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Rather than approach the problem with simple manners, Lazerback rubbed his snout directly at the point. It was rude but that was not unusual and she cared very little about it. Scratching her chin with a hind leg, Ripclaw let herself display her body in a way she knew was appealing, watching as Lazerback, for seemingly the first time, noticed it. Her frame was strong and compact, a good, hardy standard for a Predacon. Someone as decidedly turbulent minded as Lazerback would not think twice to accept her offer.

“I’m in heat.”

His jaws peeled back to reveal his teeth, head cocked in confusion.

“What?”

“Heat.”

She flicked her tail again, wafting some of the scent out from between her back legs. Lazerback jolted, vents opening wide.

“I am ready to procreate.”

He perked at that, opening his jaws to allow more of the smell into his systems. He was obviously affected by it whether or not his brain had carried the necessary coding on from the first life into this one. Besides, they all knew what interface was, regardless of reasons why or how. They would all fall in line. The thought sent a ripple of pleasure up her spinal strut and she growled lowly, an invitation to play rather than a warning. His hackles rose.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were speaking down to me.”

He was edgy but that was nothing new.

“Come here,” she soothed, tail swishing, “be the first of our kind to truly carry new life.”

That was the kind of motivation he needed. Lazerback was pleased to think of himself as the first of their kind to perform any act, achieve any goal, because anything that could be even slightly construed as a sign that he was superior to Predaking and his fold was a benefit to him. Ripclaw knew exactly what the members of her pack needed and how to give it to them.

He slunk over, chittering quietly as he assessed her posture. He was clearly interested, but might need a little coaxing in the way all Predacons instinctively knew.

It was a quick, well executed maneuver and Lazerback was subdued before he knew to fight. He was a larger, thicker mech than her, but Ripclaw was fast and had the added benefit of her tail, an appendage he was not nearly as capable with. A clawed hand on his humped spine, she swept his legs out from under him – all four of them – and was on his back in an instant, jaws braced around the exposed back of his neck.

The reaction was instantaneous, Lazerback howling beneath her, rage and submission warring within himself as her dominance, mixed with the dueling waves of her scent and electromagnetic field, bore down on him. She could hear the Preds in the pit below waking, snarls and calls echoing throughout the building as everyone attempted to understand the situation, but she was in control now and paid them no heed. It took not but a slight tightening of her jaws and the curl of her tail around his waist to subdue his struggles, and her thighs roughly pushed his apart, moving in as he involuntarily lifted his tail for her. Their transformations changed little about their interface paneling, and she knew when he shuddered beneath her that she had him.

 Lazerback was feisty, though, and angry by nature, and he probably wanted to transform into his robot mode and turn the tables, but Ripclaw was not created with a gestation tank and they both knew it. Still he bucked a bit, half for show, and she pushed him down further, grinding her pelvic array into his. She was boiling in her plating but she knew better than to try and relieve herself before he had, expose herself to potential danger. Pulling back, Ripclaw bit his mane of spikes until he shrieked at her, digging his toes into the ground and lowering his head. His panel opened with a depressurized hiss, valve bare and unsurprisingly leaking. Her heat drove them both wild.

The other Predacons were looking over the ledge now, Blight and Rippersnapper snarling to each other as they barely peeked it’s top, Skystalker having flown up to perch across from them on a ledge. No one tried to stop them, used to the sight as well as being enamored by her presence. Ripclaw did not lead their pack, but was a source of power for them nonetheless, a protector and placator, and none of them were keen to pose a challenge. With a low rumble she unsheathed her spike, acutely aware of the hitching of their collective intakes, rubbing the swollen length along the inside of Lazerback’s thigh. He pressed back against her, hard, snarling a command to hurry. He did not command her now, though.

“Ready yourself,” she hissed, and that was all the warning he got. Her spike, ridged and leaking, drove into his valve, hard. He was dripping for her, no need for preparation, and the slide of his nubby lining against her was enough to make them both howl. Her spike was spined and knotted and while they were both currently inactive tools she knew he could feel it and took some pleasure in imagining his nervous anticipation. He saw himself as a leader to them but the others knew who their true king was. For him, she would do her work.

Ripclaw fragged him roughly, hips pistoning in a way well trained by both experience and memory. He bucked beneath her, as if still trying to dislodge her weight from his back, but she knew better. Snarling, pleased, she ground her spike inside him, feeling the willing calipers shudder, squeeze around her weight, the lubricant sloshing out to meet her pelvic bowl. His hunched back bowed and she arched up, thrusting faster as the angle changed to an even more pleasurable dip. The heat had been coiling, molten, in her belly long before Lazerback had poked his snout up her ledge and she was not going to last much longer. The cues, however, physical and mental, had him panting and hissing as well, too proud to beg but needing it. Ripclaw could not help but feel a sense of pride.

It did not matter a few kliks later because she was burying her fangs into his back again as she overloaded, both of them roaring. His valve clenched around her, hard, and she throbbed, pounding her spike even as she spilled the molten payload of transfluid into him. She could feel him opening wider inside, canting his hips downward to accept the genetic material, and a strange sense of fulfillment washed over them both as things clicked into place. The beginnings of a fully seeded army were sown.

When she pulled out of him, Lazerback collapsed, huffing and puffing. They would not know whether the spark had taken for a while now, and Ripclaw still had work to do. Rounding on the onlookers, she transformed, spike still standing proud and wet from her crotch plate. It took naught but a tilt of her hips to have them scampering over to please her. The scent of her condition still wafted out over the cave, amplified, if anything, by her recent coupling. Blight pressed against her leg, snuffling as the dripping lubricant between her thighs.

“What is the smell?”

Rippersnapper butted him out of the way, pawing at her from the other side.

“Can we touch?”

She stroked a claw down the turgid length of her spike, glowing.

“On your knees.”

They both complied instantly, although their form was somewhat lacking. They had been separated from their larger gestalt since Predaking had deemed Abominous too dangerously stupid, and looked up to Ripclaw as a sign of guidance in the wake. He accepted her role with ease, just as she now accepted their presentation with open love.

The combiners were small, but not too small. She had had them before and nothing about it but it’s meaning had changed. Rippersnapper shrieked gleefully as she descended upon him, a heady hand forcing his chest into the dirt as her spike probed his inner thigh. She rumbled and he chittered a small response, not posing the attempted challenge Lazerback had. He wanted it and was not ashamed to make it easy for her. She shoved three fingers inside his willing valve, vibrating pleasantly as how slick he’d gotten from watching them mate. Her claws plucked across his swollen nodes, thumb pinching his nub, and Rippersnapper squealed.

“Now! Now!”

Fanning her fingers, Ripclaw cooed soothingly.

“Almost.”

Blight was snorting furiously, gnashing his teeth. His own panel had opened long ago and he teased himself, inhaling deep gulps of her heat. Ripclaw laughed.

“If you feel you are ready, then.”

Her hand was out and her spike was nudging in before Rippersnapper could even realize what was happening. The bulbous head popped inside and she could feel his claws scrabble at the dirt, a thin whine wheezing its way from his vocalizer. Ripclaw growled again and slid inside, gasping at the tightness. Rippersnapper squawked and she burbled with praise.

“Perfect fit.”

Blight was beside himself, crawling in as close as he dared to observe the action. Even Skystalker was edging his way around the wall to get a closer look, helm cocked. Jaws splitting in an expression of affectionate glee, Ripclaw was far more gentle with Rippersnapper than Lazerback, but he deserved it more. Her thrusts were enough to move his entire frame, the tug of her spike against his trembling lining making him dig his claws into the cement for purchase.

Sitting upright, she pulled him up into her lap. The position was easier on her bipedal form, and she held his hips tight enough to score tiny lines in the paint, rocking him back and forth atop her. Rippersnapper kicked back against her, tying to piston himself on her spike as though he were in control here. The new angle pinched his valve around her and she growled repetitive, droning notes into his shoulder, pleased with his weak attempt at performance. Her thighs were slick with lubricants and transfluid, and while they slid together easily- more easily than she had ever found interface before -it was difficult to get purchase. She delivered thrusts harder than intended by those so small she could barely reap the benefits, but Rippersnapper wailed all the same.

When Ripclaw came it was hard, though not as much as the first time. It mattered not; Rippersnapper was overwhelmed by his own small succession of tremors. Blight was on her the moment she pushed the limp frame of Rippersnapper from her, licking wide swaths of hot solvent up her chest plate and neck. He had been working his own claws into himself the entire time she’d fragged his gestalt partner, so he was well prepared, though even if she had feared for his safety there would have been little time for her to act and stop him. The liquid heat of his valve lips swallowed the head of her spike far more easily than Rippersnapper’s had and she moaned, a long, low rumble. Blight snorted, excited at his success.

“Hot! Hot!”

“Indeed,” she purred, leaning back a little and grasping his hips firmly. He had the right idea, thick thighs bracing themselves around her own so he could lift and lower himself, but her spike was too large and he was too small for him to go unassisted. And that was what Ripclaw was there for. Blight snapped at her throat and she laughed.

“Come on, then, come on!”

He tried, really, but his frantic scrambling was nothing compared to the way she crushed him to her chest, rocking in and out while she grazed her fangs across his throat and helm. Her EM field wrapped around him and he could do nothing but drown in it, his own fizzling almost visibly in his excitement. He was easily bested and by the time Ripclaw came Blight was unsure whether he was even still online, the electric discharge blinding him, muffling his yelps.

Skystalker pranced closer.

“You’re interested too, then?”

She pushed Blight off her lap with little difficulty, the gestalt partners curling up against one another, panting, watching with low optics. Skystalker clacked his jaws and when Ripclaw rose to meet him it was through transformation, her Predacon wings spreading wide in a bit of playful challenge. Clearly as intrigued as the rest of them, if not more so, judging by his quivering legs as he danced along the edge, Skystalker was reserved only just, panting hotly. He took her challenge in stride, wings flipping open to copy her movements.

“Is it a chase you want?”

His voice was cold and light in the quiet air. Ripclaw’s jaw twisted in a smile.

“I should be asking you that very question.”

In lieu of a response, Skystalker took off, falling back over the ledge and speeding up to the opposite corner of the room. Ripclaw had expected the movement, dropping low along with him and following every spiral and dart this way and that, not having a lick of the grace he had but more than making up for it in perception. She didn’t need to make the same tight cut corners as he did, follow with each signature twist his corkscrews and dives, because she anticipated each one and beat him to the punch.

It was over quickly but the exhilaration of the hunt had made her burn twice fold inside, and when she finally sunk her claws into Skystalker back and plunged his flailing fame headfirst into the dusty shelf where they others lay watching she had to admit to herself that perhaps she was being a tad over exuberant. Not that it mattered, when Skystalker struggled halfheartedly as a cover for his rather conspicuous squirming, back legs spreading without provocation. Her spike had pulled back inside its housing the moment she took to wing but now sprang free again, falling hot and heavy along his tail side and she growled menacingly.

“Th-this is a foolish, foolish game-!”

Skystalker tried to sound coherent as his valve cover slipped off, lubricant drooling down his thighs as though she had already mounted him once. Ripclaw snuffled pleasantly, taking her time to allow the ridges of her spike to find their place along his folds, rippling already at her brief touch.

“You speak as though to play was wrong.”

She pushed the head of her spike against him teasingly and he thrashed.

“One c-can take the game too far!”

Laughing, she thrust inside and his entire chassis bowed back, trembling. She liked his wings, the way they also shivered and twitched into her touch, and now she pushed her helm against them, not bothering to bite as the simple curve of her crests against the clinking feathers made him gasp. Their tails intertwined, the claw on the end of hers grasping and holding his tightly enough to express her dominance but not enough to sting. Skystalker was blasting air from his vents, horns scraping long gashes into the ground and his head swung low.

Her pace with him was harder and yet more loving than her intertwinement with Lazerback had been. Skystalker played his courtships slow and sharp, and this was less about proving something, however arbitrary. She appreciated that, and showed just how much by lapping long streaks across the back of his neck as she pumped herself inside him ruthlessly. At this point she had become accustomed to her heat, even more so than before, and the mounting pace and aggressiveness was not a sign of her losing control but rather mastering it. Whether or not her condition heightened her senses, she certainly felt it did, able to recognize and remain aware of the levels of arousal of not only her current partner but the others in the room, keenly focusing in on every aroused twitch and shiver.

Teeth bared, Ripclaw braced her back legs on the ground and roared as she came, again, each time better than the last. Skystalker was howling, even more so as, finally, Ripclaw allowed herself the pleasure of pulling him down over her knot. None of the others had ever been exposed to this particular form of pleasure and they all perked as he struggled and drooled beneath her, unable to pull away now and only half trying. Even after the final vestiges of her overload had spilled themselves within him, she remained swollen and stuck inside, fully enjoying the feeling as she used it as a small moment to recuperate.

Fluids were everywhere, the scent of their breeding permeating every corner of the room. Lazerback had somewhat recovered himself and turned over on his side, eyeing her with mixed lust and distain.

“How do we know, then?”

“Know what?”

Ripclaw had been resting her helm on Skystalker’s back, breathing in time with his shuddering ventilations.

“If we’ve been sparked.”

His tone was humored despite himself.

“You said we are doing this with the intent to procreate, and I correct?”

Her laugh took them all by surprise, and she snorted out a short puff of molten air to punctuate it.

“You have not been laden with eggs yet! That requires real spark to spark contact!”

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Lazerback curled his lips back in a snarl.

“What the slag was this all for then?”

Ripclaw angled her front legs against Skystalker’s back and ripped herself out in one fluid motion, knot depressurized at last. A rush of mixed lubricant and transfluid followed, warming the insides of their thighs anew, and steam curled up from her nostrils as she smiled.

_“I was warming you up.”_


End file.
